


VDL

by Fanfreluche



Series: Dresden - Montana - Berlin [4]
Category: Red Dead Redemption (Video Games)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Eighties, Anal Sex, Angst, Dom/sub, First Meetings, M/M, Oral Sex, Recreational Drug Use, Smut, bdsm club
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-15
Updated: 2019-08-15
Packaged: 2020-09-03 04:08:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20258404
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Fanfreluche/pseuds/Fanfreluche
Summary: It’s the summer of 1989, Arthur has a mullet and John is a rockstar wannabe. Together they go clubbing in West Berlin…





	VDL

“John, I don’t think this is the sort of club we were talking about…”

Through the haze of artificial smoke, the blaring sound of ‘Master and Servant’, strobe lights and the smell of sweat, all Arthur could perceive was a blur of twisting bodies, mostly men and some women, more than two-thirds of whom were dressed in black leather while the rest were almost naked, or harnessed, some upright, some on all fours, a few being fucked, a few others doing the fucking, though seeing as it was only 11pm, he figured the fun was only beginning... 

“John…” 

Not getting any answers, Arthur looked about him and found Marston already wedged between two burly men, dancing this twisty dance like a snake drunk on sake. He exhaled a deep sigh, running a hand through his hair, and looked around to find the bar, in the direction of which he made a beeline immediately, ignoring the various pinches and gropes he was subjected to along the way.

“Whiskey, please, neat.”

“That’s lame, man!” Spoke someone to his right with an Irish lilt. “Try some of the good shit…Tahiti Bound is rad, Guarma Shackles ain’t too bad either...”

The handsome bartender sporting an impressive mohawk eyed him with a raised eyebrow and poured him whiskey when Arthur motioned for him to carry on. Turning to face the other man, he saw a slender guy with longish red locks, who looked to be in his twenties, already crossed-eyed from all the alcohol he’d imbibed. Must be another tourist, he reckoned, seeing as he was wearing casual clothes as well. Arthur had barely opened his mouth to say hello, when two women approached them, one younger and blonde, the other in her late forties and brunette, both clad in leather corsets and thigh-high stiletto boots. The older was holding a whip. Arthur instinctively backed away a bit. 

“There you are!” Blondie addressed the young fellow. “Keep worming away, huh?”

“That’s why I said you should keep his leash on,” Whip tutted. 

Arthur’s eyes almost bulged out when he saw the woman tie what looked like a dog collar around the redhead’s neck and drag the poor boy away. _Jesus_... He downed the rest of his drink and ordered another. _A lot like life, alright..._

“Put that on me, Karl.”

The deep voice hailed from his left. Arthur tipped his head to observe a striking man who looked like he’d jumped out of a Tom of Finland comic, black leather jacket, trousers, boots, spurs and all… And all strangely tasteful, which was rare to be sure… His slick black hair was brushed back neatly, roguish smirk suspended between a well-groomed moustache and a soul patch. He noticed a little dark spot on his left cheek. ‘Sweet Dreams’ began to play.

“Sure, boss…” The bartender poured Arthur another glass before he could object.

“Van der Linde,” The man stretched a hand and Arthur found himself shaking it. “Do call me Dutch.” 

“Arthur…” He leaned his back against the counter, so that the man, leaning sideways, was now positioned to his right. The name sounded vaguely familiar.

“Visiting?” The man puffed on a cigar Karl had lit for him.

Arthur nodded, nursing his drink in his hand, suddenly overcome with a hint of apprehension, which didn’t go away when the man grinned, revealing a row of pearly white teeth.

“First time?”

“Yeah,” He was trying to think of something to say when he caught sight of Marston, now gyrating on the stage along with some professional dancers. Arthur swallowed the entire content of the glass and grimaced at the burning sensation. The stranger must have perceived the intense gaze he had levelled on John, judging by his next question.

“Your boyfriend?”

“Not really,” Arthur responded, feeling a bit more relaxed after that last shot. “Just someone I happen to have the misfortune to…” He stopped himself before he could share too much information, as was his wont.

“Fuck?” The man chuckled, trying to finish the sentence for him. “Do you fuck him or does he fuck you?”

“What do you think, Dutch?” Arthur grinned, pushing out his chest as he leant back a bit more casually, hips jutting out a little.

“Oh, I don’t generally make assumptions,” Dutch smiled, raising a dark eyebrow. “Takes the fun out of the game… But you’ve been fucked?”

“Sure,” Arthur knew he was blushing and hated himself for it. He was a grown man, for fuck’s sake… But there was something about the look in Van der Linde’s eyes that made him feel a bit like a school boy, a naughty one. “Don’t do that anymore though, prefer to top nowadays…”

Dutch didn’t say anything, but his expression had somehow changed, gained a more predatory character. Arthur felt his ears burning and looked down. 

“So… What do you do, Arthur?” 

“Uh, I paint…” He never liked to answer this particular question, always gave him the feeling he was an impostor pretending to be something he wasn’t. “Portraits mostly… Though some landscape too… Don’t much do abstract, but I’d like to dabble in it a bit if I can find the time…”

“An artist! How very intriguing,” Dutch exhaled the cigar smoke to his left. “Careful not to get your heart broken.”

Damn it, he should have just said he was taking care of his late Pa’s failure of a ranch, which was true, but not something he was proud of. Besides it irked him to realise the man knew quite a bit about his life now while he knew next to nothing about his. Before Van der Linde could enquire further about his profession or private life, Arthur quickly asked: “So you own this place?”

“With my partner, yes. Come I’ll introduce you…” Dutch extinguished his cigar in a mango-shaped ashtray, placed a hand on Arthur’s upper back and led him towards a marginally quieter area of the club. 

Arthur felt the hand squeezing his shoulder while the club was submerged in the seductive tunes of Soft Cell’s ‘Tainted Love’. They walked past two girls making out in a booth. The man Dutch addressed next was sitting in another booth, farther down, conversing with an older gentleman.

“Look what I’ve caught, Hosea,” Dutch smiled at a good-looking silver-haired fellow who seemed completely at odds with the atmosphere. Arthur could have easily mistaken him for a successful lawyer or a Wall Street stockbroker. “Your countryman!”

“Hah! Depends which state you’re from?” The man’s gaze was piercing but not unkind.

“Montana…” Arthur drawled, reaching out a hand.

“His name is Arthur _KeinNachname_,” Dutch explained, still maintaining the grip on his shoulder as he winked at his partner. 

“Pleasure to meet you, Arthur von Montana!” The partner smiled. “Hosea Matthews, Californian, born and bred. And this is Herr Strauss, club Van Der Linde’s extremely efficient accountant.”

Ah, so that’s why the name sounded familiar… John had referred to the club as VDL, which must be short for Dutch’s last name. Not knowing what else to say, he looked to Dutch and was startled to see a fierce look in the brown eyes, fixed on his partner, who was likewise looking at him with a mysterious expression. Eventually Hosea shrugged and leant his back against the booth. Simultaneously, Arthur felt Dutch’s hand dropping to the small of his back, which made him flinch a bit.

“Come, boy, dance with me.”

Arthur was yet to voice an opinion, either negative or positive, when he was swept in the direction of the dance floor, but not before Dutch pulled him to the side for a moment to offer him a couple of red pills.

“Have some Faith.”

He was not the religious sort. Last time he’d prayed, he’d been a little boy.

“Faith?”

“My own formula, it’ll make you feel pretty good.” Dutch took two pills himself and put the other two on Arthur’s palm.

He felt he had little choice but to take them before being dragged to the dance floor. Witnessing an almost naked John sliding down a pole, he decided to throw caution to the wind and have some fun as well. Initially, there was some level of awkwardness concerning who would have a more dominant stance, but Arthur found the spar teasingly enjoyable, oddly enough. It was very different from what he had with John…

Distracted by loud hurraying yells, he turned around and saw Marston now completely naked, spinning his leopard print briefs in the air. He’d almost ran to get John when hands came to rest on his hips, pulling him back against the hard outline of Dutch’s length. In his surprise, Arthur tilted his head to look at Dutch when his mouth crashed against his, ravenous tongue, twisting around his. He pushed back with his tongue, tasting him, studying him, not willing to give in as they moved to the music’s dying beat. Suddenly there was a loud cheer and everyone around them focused their attention in one direction.

“JAVIER! JAVIER!”

Dazed from the rough kiss, and no doubt an excess of Faith, Arthur barely noticed that the DJ was being replaced and the new one must have been pretty popular to demand such attention. The young man got to work instantly, enticing enchanting rhythms to pour from the speakers, a magician casting his spell, and Arthur could instantly feel the electric touch of the notes on his skin as his body began moving up and down, up and down, to Blue Monday, up and down, sliding against the muscular frame of the man behind him. 

Hands were running all over him now, pulling his t-shirt out of his jeans to explore his bare torso, appraising his abs, then down, down, to fondle his crotch.

“How do you feel?” Dutch murmured in his ear in time with the lyrics, and Arthur wondered how many times he’d whispered the same words to how many others. 

Sumner reminded him how hard it was for him always to say what he wanted to say. So in response, he turned to face the man, wrapping his arms around his waist and shoulder as he drew him into a furious kiss, the other’s hands clasping and kneading his ass. Dutch’s chuckle went straight to his excited cock.

How should he feel?

Arthur withdrew slightly, gaze locked into arresting gaze, strange feelings washing through him, carrying him away like an anchor-less vessel floating on a sea of sound.

“I’m going to take you to my office now and fuck you.” The whisper was hot against his skin. “Arthur.” 

Would he obey?

Dark laughter, licks and nips on his earlobe, and Arthur imagined he must have felt his prick twitching when the other reached to take hold of it again, looking for a response. 

Yes, he would.

Dutch didn’t speak as he led Arthur away by a firm grip on his wrist. They were soon climbing a dark staircase, passing through a narrow corridor, where they had to slip by a nasty looking man who was leading another, dressed as a pup and crawling, by a leash. Arthur felt heat rushing to his chest and abdomen at the sight and involuntarily turned to look at Dutch, whose stare pierced bullet holes right through his very soul. When the man lifted both eyebrows and smirked, Arthur slowly shook his head in the negative, smiling bashfully. 

They were now in a neat office, black leather furniture and little else. The most imposing feature of the room was a massive interior window with a view of the dance floor downstairs. Arthur went and stood by the pane, watching the spectacle of the ever intensifying orgy. Somewhere in the middle of the tangle of bodies, he spied John, still on the stage, fellating some guy’s prick while someone else sucked him off. He lifted a hand and placed it on the cool glass, blocking Marston, feeling the pulse of the window as it shivered to the musical measure.

Relax, it told him.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Hands circled his waist gently but firmly. Dutch stood behind him.

Relax...

Arthur threw his head back, delighting in the sensation of Dutch’s lips brushing softly along his neck. His t-shirt was pulled off in a swift move and he gasped to feel sharp teeth sinking into his skin, voracious hands palming his pecks, pinching his nipples. A moan escaped him when one hand slipped to massage his groin, unzipping his jeans to slither directly into his already damp briefs.

Dream...

He rested his hands over Dutch’s, not so much to guide, but to trace the course of his desire with an almost innocent curiosity. 

Take the hit...

In a flash, Arthur seized Van der Linde’s wrists and spun one around, securing it against his back, quickly maneuvering to get behind the man as he pressed him to the window, grinding his cock into the clothed cleft of his ass, all with the same ease he exercised when hogtying calves at the ranch.

“What about you, Dutch?” Arthur snarled in a deep voice, planting a quick peck on the man’s neck below his ear, snaking a hand to grab his balls. “How long has it been since you had someone fuck you?”

“Hmm, I don’t recall,” His voice was low and dangerous. “However, if it’s someone as beautiful as you, I might as well let you fuck me…”

_No…_

Arthur’s victory was doomed to oblivion when he made the mistake of relaxing his grip at hearing the unexpected compliment. He should have known it was a trap. In an instant, he was shoved back as Dutch freed himself, slapping him hard once, then twice, sending him staggering back, dizzy and confused, before he felt a persistent weight on his shoulders and was pushed down until his knees hit the floor.

“Suck, boy.” 

Still a bit disoriented, Arthur looked with awe at the naked member standing in attention before him, not only due to its impressive size, but also because of the rings adorning its underside, culminating with a much one larger loop hanging from the purpling tip. He reached and wrapped a hand around it, letting his fingers glide on the ridges and the veins.

“First time seen anything like this?” Dutch sighed, brushing his fingers through Arthur’s sandy hair.

“Yeah…”

“If you behave yourself I might put a couple on you as well, hmm...”

_Yes…_

His lips were pushed apart and the head penetrated his mouth. Arthur absently twirled his tongue over the smooth texture, around the piercing, tasting the mixture of metal and pre-cum, before sucking the head fully into his mouth, a shiver running through his frame as he listened to the satisfied groans of the man above him. Fingers locked in his hair, guiding him, closer. Arthur placed his hands on Dutch’s thighs, relaxing his throat as it threatened to gag when touched by the unfamiliar shape of the ring. The precaution was of little use in the end when Dutch pulled him closer suddenly, groaning as his cock lodged in Arthur’s constricting throat. As revenge he held the loop between his teeth and tugged on it when he was drawn backwards, causing the man to hiss in pain and slap him again, before gripping the nape of his neck and bending to kiss him violently.

“Take off your clothes, Arthur.”

Arthur quickly rid himself of his cowboy boots, just as Mercury started singing about his shooter man, then blue jeans and briefs. He was about to toss the latter away, when Dutch caught it and inhaled its scent, grinning wickedly as he pushed him on the leather couch, not so secretly stashing the underwear in his pocket. He must have lubed up his fingers while Arthur was stripping because they were thoroughly slick when he proceeded to insert them into Arthur’s entrance, making him gasp and moan as he clutched the flaps of the biker jacket. It had been a long time since he’d allowed anyone to touch him like that.

He shut his eyes when Dutch splayed his thighs open with an elbow, claiming his mouth again in a brutal kiss, fingers teasing his aching insides. Arthur’s hands found their way beneath the man’s white t-shirt, and to his astonishment - though not really... - he discovered his nipples were pierced as well as he rolled them playfully between his thumb and index finger.

“Like ‘em, boy?” Dutch chuckled, amused no doubt by Arthur’s fixation on his piercings. “I have a mind to do yours myself. Both nipples and one here…”

Arthur yelped when Dutch’s fingers left his ass, his hand moving from the wet convulsing hole to the tip of his cock, squeezing his balls on the way.

“Come, Arthur, I want fuck you where you can see your little boyfriend getting gang-banged.”

He opened his mouth to protest but was slapped hard across the face for the fourth time, and bitten on the throat for good measure, before being kissed lovingly all over his face and chest and belly and cock and thighs… He’d scarcely registered the shift from savagery to tenderness when the pendulum swung back. He was pushed down the sofa and grabbed by the nape of the neck.

_Happy now?_

“Don’t resist it, Arthur… You want it to hurt, don’t you? Otherwise you wouldn’t have fallen for that slut. I knew what you needed the moment you walked in.”

He let Dutch haul him to the window and prop him against the pane, closing his eyes in anticipation when he heard the sound of the condom pack ripping. He couldn’t keep them closed for long though, and soon his gaze was wandering again, in search of John. Perhaps Dutch was right…

“Look at him, doesn’t even remember you’re here.”

Watching John fuck with abandon, he felt Dutch’s shaft slide along his crack and halt at his quivering opening, steady fingers digging into his hips.

Mercury warned him of hurt to come.

“Beg for it.”

Mercury assured him he was ready.

“Do it, I beg you…” He tried to push back but Dutch held him still.

“Do what?”

“Fuck me, Dutch, I beg you…” For someone who was begging, his voice was incredibly calm.

“No.”

“I beg you, I beg you, please…” Arthur pressed his brow against the cool glass, eyes still trained on Marston.

“No.”

He looked back in confusion. At the same time there was a collective scream of joy when the DJ morphed the song smoothly into another, much much slower, melody. It was a new song, he had heard it before, had come out only recently.

“Come, Arthur, you’re the creative type.”

He couldn’t remember the song’s name...

“You should be able to guess what you need to say.”

It was beautiful, all the same...

“Hurt me.” He cast a last glance at John before closing his eyes and leaning back closer to the wicked warmth behind him. “Make it hurt.”

He bit his lower lip hard enough to draw blood when Dutch thrust into him viciously, sheathing himself inside to the hilt, sending a burning ache rippling through his belly and thighs. He felt a hand securing around his throat. Another stroked his cock in a deliberate, wicked pace. 

“Why don’t you leave him be and become mine?” Dutch panted as he fucked into him powerfully, wickedly. “Become mine, Arthur.”

“Don’t you have... Hosea already?” Arthur tried to catch his breath in between frenzied thrusts, bucking urgently, wickedly, into Dutch’s fist.

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong…” Van der Linde chuckled, oh so wickedly. “I want you to be my thing, my property, not my partner…” He growled low as he kept pistoning his cock in a rapid tempo, eliciting desperate moans from Arthur. “We can draw up a contract, free you of your will for good… Wouldn’t you like that, son? Not having to decide anymore...” 

_Son_. It was all too much, the stimulation, the temptation, and although he didn’t need it, knowing it was bad for him, knowing his own propensity for falling, and staying down in the pit of despair, for elongated periods of time, unrecovering, regretting every single decision he had made… he wanted it, at least for now, to believe he could belong somewhere...

_With…_

The best part of his climax was that he could no longer see John, and could only feel Dutch. The hurt, of course, was there, but there was some relief in its change of origin… Hot jets of cum left his cock and landed on the pane, reminding him of a Jackson Pollock documentary he’d seen, of all things, once he’d regained his vision… He felt somewhat embarrassed to realise he had shouted Dutch’s name, but the utterance must have triggered the other’s release since he expanded inside him and turned his head to claim his mouth, bucking into him erratically, forcefully, wickedly. 

_Don’t fall..._

He was surprised when Dutch embraced him, catching him when his knees went weak, kissing him with wicked softness on the side of his neck where he had bitten earlier.

“I’m serious Arthur,” He locked eyes with him. “I want you.” 

_Don’t fall..._

“I don’t like chains, Dutch… In the end, I reckon I’d rather be alone...”

_With..._

“With me, you will be alone, Arthur.”

**Author's Note:**

> Inspirational/featured songs:
> 
> Master and Servant - Depeche Mode  
Sweet Dreams - Eurythmics  
Shout - Tears for Fears  
Tainted Love - Soft Cell  
Blue Monday - New Order  
Relax - Frankie Goes To Hollywood (sorry not sorry for any Zoolander triggers)  
Another One Bites the Dust - Queen  
Wicked Game - Chris Isaak


End file.
